| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
i6o |
FABER'S HYMNS. |
||
|
My heart, sweet Dove ! I '11 lend to Thee
To mourn with at Thy will; My tongue shall be Thy lute to try
On sinners' souls Thy skill.
How silver-like Thy plumage is, Thy voice how grave, how gay !
Ah me ! how I shall miss Thee, Lord! Then promise me to stay.
Who made this beating heart of mine, But Thou, my heavenly Guest ?
Let no one have it then but Thee And let it be Thv nest. |
|||
|
DRYNESS IN PRAYER.
Oh for the happy days gone by, When love ran smooth and free,
Days when my spirit so enjoyed More than earth's liberty!
Oh for the times when on my heart Long prayer had never palled,
Times when the ready thought of God Would come when it was called! |
|||